


What Makes a Family

by alphaesque



Category: Leverage
Genre: Co-Dependant Thieving Family, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Dynamics, Multi, Post- Season 5, all the family feelings; all the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphaesque/pseuds/alphaesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate realizes he misses the kids when they’re in Moscow. The leaves are vibrant as they fall, signaling the changing of seasons, and the beauty of it stains his fingers. The realization is sudden and hits him as he walks through the park, one hand interlocked with Sophie’s, the other trailing along the scenery, creating ripples of color in his wake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Makes a Family

**Author's Note:**

> pure, unadulturated, co-dependant made thieving family fluff.
> 
> what makes a family is: one (retired) mastermind, one (ex) art thief, one thief, one hitter, and one hacker. only you can't make a family if you're missing some of the ingredients. 
> 
> (aka Nate's a big sap and realizes that he needs to be home more than he needs to explore the world.)

Nate realizes he misses the kids when they’re in Moscow. The leaves are vibrant as they fall, signaling the changing of seasons, and the beauty of it stains his fingers. The realization is sudden and hits him as he walks through the park, one hand interlocked with Sophie’s, the other trailing along the scenery, creating ripples of color in his wake.

It’s a breathtaking feeling like no other to be able to see the city so alive, to feel it pulsing around him; yet no matter how many breaths he takes, the air remains foreign and stale, unable to fill the void in his chest.

He misses all three of them. Not that he’s keen on admitting it; after all it had been his decision to leave- the right decision, but his nevertheless.

Sophie misses them too, he can see it in the way she smiles- wide and full of love, but the force of it soon wilts after the initial bloom. She misses them as much as he does- some days even more.

As much as he misses them, he doesn’t miss the jobs though.

He does miss helping people; he misses being two steps ahead of those who believe themselves to always be miles above everyone else- those who see themselves as untouchable to the work trodden hands of the regular folk they so easily screw over.

No, he doesn’t miss the weight of the jobs or the bitter taste of whiskey that barely kept his mind afloat.

Being with Sophie, traveling the world with her and having no reason, no job or con behind their decisions is freeing; a feeling he thought he’d never be able to truly experience again. It’s uplifting, passionate and real. It’s love- unconditional in its purest form.

And that is how he knows he misses them. Because he loves them too. Loves them as if they were his own (though deep down he knows they’re his own just as he belongs to every one of them, each one has claimed their own piece of him while leaving their individual marks in return).

It’s there in the park, surrounded by laughter and color, that Nate turns to his wife and asks her if they can go home.

Sophie’s smile is bright- it’s a creation of nature itself- and she kisses him, loudly and theatrically, a show for everyone to see. Sparing no time, she pulls a few strings, getting them on a flight leaving in just two hours.

They don’t have time to tell the kids that they’re departing and Sophie plans to call as soon as they land. The tires screech against the black pavement and her fingers are shaking, body wound tight with impatience not due to the roughness of the landing but the blank screen her phone offers her when it claims there’s no service on the tarmac.

Nate calms her with the gentle brush of his fingers across the top of her hand, reaching up to cup the back of her neck so that he can press their foreheads together. They haven’t even been assigned a gate to taxi up to yet and the wait is causing her foot to bounce restlessly against his.

Sophie’s nerves are contagious, he decides as his leg starts to jiggle on its own accord. She’s cursing at the phone, shaking it violently, long fingers squeezing in it a vice grip that provides her with an outlet for her stress rather than actual results.

Finally the phone beeps to life, almost coincidently, as the pilot thanks them for their patience and the attendants smile warily at them, equally as ready for the passengers to disembark as they are.

The air is better here; filled with life and past memories, both good and bad. The leaves have already fallen thanks to a nasty storm and the sky is bleak, nothing short of unwelcoming- not that it deters the pleasant feeling in his chest. The sky could have been opening up to unleash the apocalypse with Sterling leading the way and Nate still wouldn’t have been able to keep the smile off his face. He doesn't need the reds and browns from falling leaves bleeding from his fingertips when he has the impatient yellow of Parker's movements, the unimpressed blues that surround Eliot, and the impish bursts of ambers that resonate in Hardison's smile.

Sophie is dressed in vibrant colors that make up for their lackluster surroundings regardless; she continues to call even though no one is picking up and he’s worn his voice thin from begging her to leave them be. It’s not a bad sign that their phones are off, and neither of them are too worried, but Nate understands the desperation burning under her skin to at least hear one of their voices, to let some of the void be filled by their happy tones.

It’s been too long.

(It’s been six days.)

They manage to get their luggage without hassle, something Nate would thank Hardison for if Hardison knew of their arrival, and make it outside just in time to avoid the rest of the rushed, anxious passengers from their flight. He’s about to hail a taxi, much to Sophie’s immense displeasure (“Why can’t we just rent a car?” “Because we own a car, dear. We just need a ride to said car, that’s all”) when the feeling of someone approaching his blind spot startles him.

"You folks need a ride?" the deep, gravelly twang has Sophie gasping, one hand flying to her mouth, her eyes watering on their own accord and Eliot barely manages to catch her when she takes off towards him.

"Eliot," there’s a distinct wobble in her voice even though she’ll vehemently deny it later on. She’ll go as far as to blame the teary eyes and her sniffling on unexpected allergies- no one buys it, not that she thought they would. She knows better than to con her own family by now.

"Welcome home," Nate ignores the angry looking cut on Eliot’s face in favor of hugging him, all gruff and man-like, adding several backslaps to mask the tender reunion.

"It’s good to be back."

Eliot raises a brow, takes Sophie’s rolling luggage and one of Nate’s bags, “That so?”

"The world is a beautiful place, Eliot. But nothing beats coming home."

When Eliot snorts, Sophie narrows her eyes dangerously at him. “It’s true. Nothing is quite as satisfactory as the feeling of stepping off a plane, knowing that you’re finally back where you started.”

Both Eliot and Nate share a look and bite back their comments about Sophie starting from across the pond- mostly because they value their extremities intact and still attached.

"Where’s Parker and Hardison?" Sophie will also deny the worry in her voice, or the way her brows scrunch up as she scans the parking lot, one hand lifted to shield her eyes from the sudden, brief rays of the sun.

Tossing their suspiciously heavy suitcases into the car, Eliot doesn’t give himself time to wonder what souvenirs they could’ve brought back- or the frightening amount of new clothes Sophie probably returned with- and slams the trunk shut. “Back at the office. We just finished up a job when Hardison got the alert.”

Nate hums, opening up the backdoor for Sophie just as she glides into the passenger seat with an innocent smile. He manages to get out: “I wasn't aware you all had a job?” just as Sophie turns to Eliot with raised brows, “What alert?”

Eliot sighs the loud, suffering sigh of the martyr and maneuvers through the airport traffic. “File’s in the back, Nate.” When Sophie continues to stare holes into the side of his head, he grunts and slaps the blinker down a bit harder than necessary. “Hardison put a tag on all your aliases. Just in case any sort of unusual activity pops up, we’d know.”

"You’ve been spying on us?" Sophie doesn’t look half as astonished as she sounds and Eliot simply shrugs in response, not willing to dig himself a larger hole than he’s already in.

Nate looks over the file for the job, flicking through the evidence and the startling amount of damage this guy's done and feels no pangs of regret over getting out when he did. “Did you run the Baltimore Roundabout?”

"No, we needed a fourth to do that and Tara was out of the country. Parker went with somethin’ she named The Backhanded Devereaux.”

Sophie hides her smile by turning to look out the window, “Bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?”

"Worked though." Eliot doesn’t bother to hide his smirk and Sophie gets a good look at the red gash down his face. There’s a matching one on his hand; the skin around it puffy, the color turning from a startling red to an aching purple. "Stop with the starin’ already. I’m fine."

She tuts in response, “I know. It just looks like it hurts, that’s all.”

"Sometimes," he spares her a look out of the corner of his eye before his shoulders sag and he allows her to gently run her worried fingers over the cut on his hand. "Parker already cleaned me up but the inflammation won’t be goin’ down for a few days time. It looks a hell of a lot worse than it actually is though."

Nate leans forward to examine the cut himself and Eliot wants nothing more than to shrink down in his seat, “You sure about that? Because it looks pretty bad as it is.” 

"I’m positive." Neither of them look too sold on it, so he adds a bit more conviction into his words, "I’m alright! Really. I promise, okay? Stop nagging."

Sophie lets out a long breath of air through her nose before returning to her phone, shooting Parker a text rather than calling her for the fourth time since they’ve landed.

"I’ve got some chili in the pot when we get there," Eliot looks back towards Nate when he says this and the gleeful look in Nate’s eyes has Eliot’s chest feeling all weirdly warm, like he’s done something grand to please his parent.

Which he hasn’t. He just made chili. Anyone can make chili. (Okay, that’s not true. Making chili takes a very distinctive art form which requires time and patience and the right amount of spices.)

"Ooh, chili. Did you make that one bread to go with it? The soft one with the..?" Sophie gestures, wiggling her fingers in the air to convey her meaning even though Eliot and Nate’s eyebrows are furrowed together in confusion rather than understanding. Completely oblivious to their befuddled expressions, she sends a message to Tara to tell her that they’re back in town and misses the soft crinkle around Eliot’s eyes when he looks at her.

"Sure did." They pull up to the restaurant Eliot and Hardison brought together and Nate makes an approving noise in the back of his throat. It's smaller than the brewery but there's a bakery in the back. Parker helps out more often than not and is unsurprisingly good at kneading dough- though what is surprising is the croissants she manages to make on the first try that taste like sin and the cookies she bakes when she's stressed that taste something like heaven. 

They took a page from Nate's book and moved in upstairs, turning the extra loft floor into their office and the smaller apartment section into their home. It's small and at times suffocating, but Eliot can't seem to find a reason to complain.

Sophie’s door is open before Eliot can put the car in park and there’s a loud, disgruntled yell from Eliot followed by a surprised noise from Nate, but she pays them no mind. Her legs carry her quickly across the pavement, heels tapping loudly as she strides towards the door. Her foot comes in contact with the sidewalk just as the door opens and Parker comes barrelling out, hair flying after her as she winds herself around Sophie, grip tight and unrelenting.

"Why, hello to you too," Sophie doesn’t mind the way her lungs protest when Parker squeezes her tighter, the younger girl’s face burrowing into her neck, sniffing at the familiar scent of jasmine, roses, and expensive perfume.

"You’re back."

"Yes," she doesn’t give pause to the way her fingers are digging into Parker’s sweater, leaving little half-moon imprints into the dark fabric. Her smile is real and Nate watches it bloom, sending life into Sophie’s eyes, and unlike the times before, it stays. It radiates at the sight of Hardison loping out of the open door; a grin on his face, dish rag tossed casually over his shoulder, arms already open for Sophie to move into.

Nate lets himself revel in the beauty of Sophie’s smile before he tucks Parker against him, giving himself a moment that is his alone with the daughter he never had. “Hey, kiddo.”

"Hey," her voice breaks just a fraction and he holds her a bit tighter, resting his chin on top of her head so that he can wink at Hardison."You miss us?"

Parker pulls back only slightly so that Nate can witness her elaborate eye roll, “No. Not at all.”

Sophie’s laugh seems to flow through him and the void in his chest starts to sew itself closed, “Of course they didn’t, they’re big kids now. They can handle themselves.” 

Hardison and Nate exchange a greeting similar to his and Eliot’s and the hacker sneaks him a earbud when Sophie’s back is turned. 

Nate's glad he’s out, but he doesn't mind playing the causal third-party observer every once in a while. (Just to make sure they’re on top of their game.)

"Oh, does Eliot need help with the suitcases?"

Parker shoves her hands into her pockets, the emotions on her face warring from wanting to reach back out to touch Sophie and Nate to wanting to pull herself back into her own personal safe space. Hardison solves her problems for her by tugging her over and draping his arm over her shoulders. 

"Nah, he’s got it."

"No, he doesn’t ‘got it’," Eliot appears off to the side of Nate with empty hands just as Hardison manages to finish his sentence. Snagging the dish rag from Hardison, he pokes him in the chest and starts for the door. "I put them in the car, Hardison. You can take them out."

“Excuse me?”

"You heard me. I have to go check on my chili."

Hardison throws himself into a full body pout, hands up in the air as he glowers after Eliot. “Your chili is just fine. You just don’t want to carry Sophie’s heavy ass bag up the steps!” Eliot puts his finger to his nose, proving Hardison’s theory correct and the hacker lets out a long huff. “That’s just cold.” 

Parker whispers, “ice cold” and Hardison has to fight back a bark of nervous laughter at the giddy, evil grin on her face, as if she and Eliot had somehow planned for that moment. (Hardison doesn't really put it past them, actually).

Sophie and Nate watch fondly as Eliot and Hardison argue, their hands seeking out one another’s, fingers fitting into the spaces where they belong as the sky rolls in warning. “Well, someone needs to get our bags out, just look at the weather.”

Parker looks up at the sky in consideration before she takes Nate and Sophie’s hands in her own and guides them into the building. “Hardison can get the bags out. Eliot needs to check the food.”

Eliot’s responding grin is downright gleeful, “Listen to the girls, Hardison. Get the bags out.”

"You’re the strong one!"

"Don’t even give me that bullshit. We work out together three days a week, Alec." Eliot’s voice carries throughout the restaurant and Parker ignores both of them, opting to jump over the bar and pour both Nate and Sophie their drinks of choice. She sneaks a bottle of water next to Nate's glass and he smiles ruefully at her. "Man, instead of whining like a big baby you could have gotten the bags out and up the stairs by now."

Hardison mocks Eliot under his breath but relents, shuffling dramatically towards the door. “Why can’t Parker do it?”

"Because Parker helped clean this morning while you participated in one of your elf orc raids, that’s why." Eliot’s head peaks out from behind the kitchen doors just in time to see Hardison’s mouth gape open, ready to correct Eliot on what said- very, very important- raid was about. “Marriage is about compromise, Hardison.” Eliot’s gold band catches the light from where it sits on the necklace resting against his chest, a constant reminder of the two he belongs to, of the promises they’ve made to one another.

Hardison’s arsenal of comebacks seems to have drawn short because he flounders for a moment, mouth open and wide, poised to shoot back something but the group is given nothing, just shocked silence. He fiddles with his own, turning the intricate white band around his finger before he shakes his head in defeat. “Alright, I’m going. Bossy.”

Both the kitchen and front doors shut simultaneously and Parker turns to Nate and Sophie, eyes twinkling with the same happiness she gets when she’s jumping off a building or given a stack of money by Nate.

She presses her hands down flat on the bar and Nate lets himself stare at the rose gold color of her ring, eyes trailing along the engraving that is unique to each of the three’s own bands. She catches him staring and taps his own ring, mouth quirking into a catlike grin. “Feels good to be home, huh?”

Nate takes a thoughtful sip, thumb rubbing idly against Sophie’s palm and then smiles back at her; the void in his chest becoming nothing but a distant ache, a feeling to be forgotten about by the time he wakes up with a mix of sunshine and Sophie’s hair across his face, surrounded by Parker’s unique laughter, Eliot’s low baritone chuckles and Hardison’s delighted cheers from across the apartment as they persuade Eliot into making them breakfast. “Honestly? I can’t quite think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”


End file.
